FIC: Riggins & Winchester: Junior Varsity
Happy Birthday, tvm!
It's THURSDAY! omgomgomgomgomg
I can't even call this one a snapshot. It's more like a whole flippin' album. I have no idea where it came from, except brynwulf deserves a lot of the blame.
Title: Riggins & Winchester: Junior Varsity
Pairing: Tim Riggins/Dean Winchester
Rating: R -- Adult readers only, please. In this 'verse, Tim Riggins is 18.
Notes: FNL and SPN remain under the copyright of their respective owners. Written for pleasure, not profit. Thanks go to brynwulf for being the best sounding board ever, and to devilc and moosesal for beta reading.
Word Count: 5,100
Summary: Set several months after the end of the original set of snapshots, specifically after Snapshot #11 REDUX: Another Way To Go.
Junior Varsity
***
A ringing phone at midnight never brought good news. Dean peeled his hand off the knife under his pillow and patted the nightstand for his phone. "'Lo," he said, rubbing sleep out of his eye.
"Dean?"
The voice sounded young, scared, and familiar, but he couldn't place it. "Yeah," he said.
"It's Landry. Landry Clarke, from Dillon? Tim's…um…friend?" the voice said.
Landry. Landry? Oh, shit, Landry.
Oh, shit.
Tim.
Dean yanked back the covers and climbed out of bed, automatically reaching under it for his duffel. As he turned on the light, he said, "Landry, yeah, I remember you. What's going on?"
Either the light or the phone or Dean's panicked flight out of bed woke Sam, who sat up in the other bed, blinking against the light, and mouthed, "What?" at him. Dean shook his head. In his ear, the sound of Landry's short sharp breaths made his blood run cold. He sat back down abruptly on the bed. "Okay, Landry, you need to calm down." He motioned Sam over and turned the phone so Sam could hear, too. "Is Tim okay?"
"I don't know," Landry said, his voice thick and a little wobbly. "He went after something. He's been doing that for awhile, you know? Like y'all do?"
Tim was hunting? Fuck. Fuck. Dean's heart skipped a beat, then started again, double-time. Beside him, Sam drew in a sharp breath and reached over, trying to pull the phone from Dean's hand. Dean batted him away and turned, sheltering the phone.
"We didn't know," Dean said.
"What?" Landry said, loudly enough that Sam leaned forward again.
"I haven't talked to him," Dean said, ignoring the look Sam gave him. "Start at the beginning."
"He's been doing it all summer," Landry said, his voice getting steadier the more he talked. "It's amazing, once you know what to look for, how much is out there. I'll read the newspapers and find stuff that sounds off somehow, and then Tim goes after whatever it is. Like, I set 'em up and he knocks 'em down, kind of like …well, I don't really know what it's like, since I've never done it before, but it worked the first time, so we just kept doing it, and--"
"Landry, dude," Dean said. "Cut to the chase."
"Okay, yeah, sorry. He left yesterday afternoon, said he was going to Lake Texoma to look for a giant catfish. He said he'd be back no later than noon, but I haven't seen him or heard from him, and I waited a while because, well, it's Tim, and sometimes he gets distracted, if there's a pool table, or a girl -- sorry, Dean -- or a television." He paused and Dean heard his breath start up with those short sharp pants again. "I think maybe he bit off more than he can chew."
"…of the catfish," Sam said sarcastically.
Dean ground his knuckle into the side of Sam's knee and said, "The catfish thing is a red herring."
"What?" Landry spluttered.
Sam took the phone. "What he means is, they disproved the giant catfish thing a couple years ago. It's a prank. It's not real."
"All I know is, stuff keeps going missing at that lake," Landry said. "Like, it started with a bunch of geese, and then it was dogs, and now this week, a Girl Scout on a camping trip went for a swim and *poof* she's gone, and they all say she drowned, but I don't know. I don't think that's what happened."
"You think it's a giant catfish," Sam said.
"Or something," Landry said. He paused, then said, "Whatever it is, I'm worried maybe it ate Tim."
Dean's heart settled into a rhythm he recognized as pre-hunt jitters. Better than the somebody-died thump, but still not as good as being sound asleep and dreaming about Jessica Biel. He took the phone back from Sam and got up.
"Okay, here's what we're gonna do," he said, pacing the length of the room. "You e-mail Sam everything you've got on the catfish and what's been happening at the lake. The address is notinkansas@mymail.com. We'll check it out and call you back."
"What else can I do?" Landry said. Damn, he sounded young.
"Just sit tight, Landry," Dean said. "You did the right thing calling us."
"Tim gave me your cell number," Landry said. "He told me to call you if something went wrong. He said he knew you'd come and kill whatever it was."
Dean closed his eyes. Damn it, Tim.
"It probably won't come to that," Dean said. "But if it does, we'll take care of it."
Landry sighed. "If it turns out he's drunk at some bar somewhere, he won't have to worry about a Scout-eating fish -- I'll kill him myself."
***
Dean didn't get visions like Sam, but he trusted his instincts, so when the first thing he seemed to want to do after hanging up the phone was start packing, he rolled with it. Sam stood looking at him for a minute, then silently pulled out his own duffel. Dean let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding and offered to go get coffee while Sam booted up the laptop.
By the time he got back, Sam was scribbling furiously on the motel notepad. He took the coffee cup Dean offered and pointed to the computer screen.
"Believe it or not, I think they were onto something," Sam said. "Not a giant catfish, but something's definitely up to no good at that lake."
"What do you think it is?" Dean asked, pulling up a chair and looking over Sam's shoulder.
Sam leaned forward and pointed to one of the open webpages. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it sounded like a kappa, a Japanese river child."
"But…"
Sam looked at him over his shoulder. "Texas is a long way from Japan, and they usually inhabit rivers or streams. But otherwise, it fits." He ticked off his fingers, saying, "It starts small; it doesn't seem malicious, necessarily, but then it takes a child."
"Does it eat them?" Dean asked, blowing on his coffee before taking a sip.
"Sometimes," Sam said. "But sometimes, it just plays with them. And it can live out of water. It keeps water in its head, like a bowl." He pointed to an illustration of truly weird-ass looking thing -- part human, part animal -- with a big dip full of water in its head.
"That's one ugly son of a bitch."
"Yeah."
"And that's what you think Tim and Landry found? Some Japanese river gremlin? In a lake in Texas?"
Sam shrugged. "Well…yeah. I do."
Dean felt a little warm glow kindle in his belly. "I'll be damned."
***
Around the two hundred mile mark, Dean looked across the front seat at Sam and said, "What the hell was he thinking?"
Sam had a flashlight in his lap, using it to read up on kappa lore. He switched off the light and shrugged, saying, "Maybe once he knew, he wanted to do something about it."
*
A hundred miles further, Dean said, "He's just a kid."
Sam just looked at him. "Is that what you thought when he was suck--"
"Sam!"
*
As they crossed the state line, Dean grunted. "I'd have thought Landry had more sense."
"You really think Landry could've stopped Tim from doing something he wanted to do?" Sam asked.
Dean flashbacked to the dusty grocery store back room -- not back far enough, either. Over his own stifled moans and Tim's rough breath, he could hear customers on the other side of the wall going about their day, buying their hamburger and toilet paper and milk while Tim pushed his warm, callused hand down the front of Dean's jeans and brought him off right there against the lunch meats, and Dean just put his head back, closed his eyes, and let him.
He sighed and surreptitiously rearranged his suddenly hard dick. "No, probably not."
***
It took them twelve hours to get there, with Dean twitching every time they stopped until they could get back on the road. Sam let him drive a whole seven miles over the speed limit, three more than he usually did in their post-Hendricksen world.
Nobody knew anything, of course. The ranger pointed out the search-and-rescue teams in the woods surrounding the lake, saying they'd dragged the lake where the child disappeared already and not found anything, so they'd moved on to the woods. But Sam told Dean he still thought water was their best bet; they went down toward the lake and started checking the dozens of brackish ponds set way back from the roads, some so covered in algae they looked solid. The sun hung hot in the sky, the dense, bright light making Dean feel like his head was baking. He found himself hoping the little girl had died quickly; heat like this would be an ugly way to go.
Every once in a while, he'd shout, "TIM!" and get only the buzz of insects in answer.
They'd been looking for a couple of hours, and Dean had started to wonder just how long it could take to cover the shores of a nine-thousand acre lake, when in response to his hoarse shout, Dean finally heard something: a grunt, then a curse, then another grunt.
Dean grabbed Sam's arm and said, "This way."
They fought through underbrush and waded through knee-deep water, following the sounds. Dean hacked through a wall of something tough and sticky, and burrowed through, holding it open for Sam to crawl through behind him.
Holy shit.
In a small clearing, Tim lay stretched in a shallow pool of murky water. He was filthy -- covered from head to toe in sweat, mud, and God knew what else -- soaking wet, bloody in a dozen places, but thoroughly, thankfully alive. Alive and kicking, it looked like; he was sprawled on top of some…thing. It looked part human and part, well, not-human. Like a turtle or a lizard or something reptilian and ugly. The top of its head had a hollow in it, and Dean remembered Sam saying that's where kappa kept water so they could go on land. The muscles in Tim's arms, shoulders, and neck stood out in sharp relief -- he was holding on with every ounce of strength he had. Beneath him the thing struggled, pushing up on Tim, but it didn't seem to be gaining much ground.
Sam started to say something, but Dean put out his hand and said softly, "Don't distract him."
Just then Tim looked up, his eyes wild. He locked on Dean and grinned like a crazy man, his teeth bright white in his dirty face. "Dean!"
Dean strode forward, pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. "Hold still, Tim, I've got to get a clear shot."
Tim's grin disappeared. "No, wait, don't kill it," he said urgently, and beneath him, the kappa redoubled its efforts. Tim twisted and got his legs turned so he could clamp his thighs around the thing's back. It jerked and Tim grunted again; the kappa must have gotten a shot in somewhere.
Dean stopped in his tracks, his gun still raised.
Sam stepped up beside him, his hands out, and said to Tim, "Tell us what to do."
Tim looked up and shook the hair out of his eyes. "I heard the little girl a little while ago; she's out here somewhere, but he won't tell me where she is."
The kid was still alive. Amazing. Dean lowered his gun.
"It talked to you?" Sam asked. He glanced over at Dean like he was wondering if Tim had been out in the sun too long.
"I am not 'it'." The heavily accented croak came from under Tim's left shoulder. "I am 'he'."
"Whatever," Tim said to it. Uh, him. "You're down, and you're staying down."
"Is she hurt?" Sam asked.
Tim looked down. "I don't think so. He wasn't going to eat her. He wanted company."
Sam looked at Dean, then said to Tim, "So…what're you doing?"
"He challenged me, said if I wrestle him and win, he'll let the girl go and he'll get the hell out of Texas," Tim said, panting, settling his weight more firmly on the kappa.
"And if he wins?" Sam said.
"He still lets her go," Tim said, then looked over at Dean. "And takes me instead."
Yeah, okay, no. Not happening. Tim was looking at him like he wanted Dean to tell him he'd done good, and he had, but no way on God's green earth was Dean letting some goddamn turtle take Tim. He'd kill the thing where he lay and they'd find the girl themselves. He didn't say anything, but Sam obviously figured out where his head was, because he reached over and clicked the safety on Dean's gun.
Dean stepped closer. Fine. If he couldn't use his gun, he'd keep tearing the thing to pieces with his bare hands as an option. Tim looked like he was starting to wear out -- his arms were trembling, and he was pulling in breaths in long hard gusts.
"Tim, how long have you been at it?" Dean asked quietly.
"Um, what day is it?" Tim asked, his voice going low and rough when the kappa shifted again.
Wow, that long…Dean moved in close enough to see that the kappa had one of his legs wound tight around Tim's right ankle, and the spines on his back were digging into Tim's side under his ribs. Had to hurt like hell, but Tim had somehow maintained the upper hand. Time enough later to get smug about it, but damnit, he'd been right: Tim had everything he needed to be a hunter -- and a good one -- except experience, and here he was, getting on-the-job training.
"Thursday," Dean said, walking in a circle around Tim and his prey, looking for an opening.
"I got here Tuesday night, found him yesterday," Tim said, indicating the kappa, "and it was way past dark when we started. He had all these rituals and stuff, rules about it," Tim said. "So…that's how long."
Shit. At least twelve hours, maybe more. The whole time they'd been driving, Tim had been here fighting this thing. Alone. Goddamnit. Okay, time to wrap this up before Tim gave out completely or the thing gored him with his spiny back.
"Come on, come on," Tim muttered, arching his back and shoving the kappa deeper into the mud. "Yield, you little fucker. No way you're getting up now. I've got backup."
Beside him, Sam grinned, and despite the heat and the bugs and the mud and the blistering sun and the missing girl and the talking lake monster, Dean found himself grinning too.
"I will yield." the kappa said, his tongue reaching out far enough to stroke along Tim's forearm. It left a green streak in its wake. "If that is what you want."
"Finally," Tim said, and started to let go, but Sam lunged forward and yelled, "No!"
Tim froze, his grip tightening again. His face contorted in a grimace. "Shit. Be quick," he said through clenched teeth.
"These things are tricky," Sam said. "You have to get it to promise. Once they make an oath, they can't break it. What were its exact words?"
Tim groaned. "I don't remember. Feels like a long time ago, you know?"
Okay, enough dicking around.
Dean crouched down in front of the kappa. "I'll make it real simple: You promise to let the girl -- and this one -- go, unharmed, and leave Texas forever. Say whatever you have to say to make it stick, and then there's some chance I won't rip your heart out while Tim here holds you down."
The kappa grumbled for a minute, but finally said, "I promise to release the child and this one, unharmed, and leave Texas."
Dean looked up at Sam. "Good enough?"
Sam seemed to be thinking through loopholes. "I think so."
Tim squinted up at him. "You think so?"
"We've never come up against one of these before," Sam said. "They're not supposed to be on this side of the Pacific."
"Look, let's get into the history later, okay?" Dean pointed at the kappa. "Where'd you put the Girl Scout?"
"You will find the girl in a culvert fifty meters to the west," the kappa croaked.
Sam headed off at a sprint and came back a few minutes later with the girl clutched to his chest. "She's okay. She says she's hungry," he said.
Only then did Tim relax his grip. Dean reached over to brace Tim as he untangled himself from the kappa, and did his best to get a firm grip on Tim's slippery skin. Tim took hold of Dean's arm and lifted himself up, grabbing tighter when his legs buckled beneath him.
"Shit," Tim said.
"I've got you," Dean said. To hell with the muck; he slid his arms around Tim's back and held on tight.
Tim dropped his forehead on Dean's shoulder and groaned.
"You hurt?" Dean asked, rubbing his hands up and down Tim's back.
"I've had worse from practice," Tim said, but it took him three tries to get his arms high enough to go around Dean.
Stoic fucker. Dean put Tim at arms' length and looked him over, lifting his mud-crusted shirt to look at the vivid dark red bruise spreading across the bottom of Tim's ribs. "That's gonna hurt for awhile," Dean said.
Tim nodded.
"Um, guys? He's leaving," Sam said, calling their attention to the kappa.
He had a weird dignity to him, the kappa did. He'd kept his promise, and he hadn't hurt the little girl he stole. That put him ahead of a lot of the shit they dealt with.
Sam moved in front of the kappa and bowed deeply, still holding the girl tightly to his chest.
The kappa stilled. "You are a smart one," he said before slowly bowing back. From the indention in his head, water spilled and ran down his scaly face, disappearing into the mud.
Sam bowed again. "You are a worthy adversary," he said formally.
The kappa turned toward Dean and Tim. "That one is smart, and the young one is strong," the kappa said, indicating Tim. He looked at Dean. "What are you?"
Dean tightened his grip on Tim and said, "I'm the one who still has the gun. Get moving."
The kappa turned away, shuffling from pond to pond until he disappeared from view.
"What was all that about?" Dean asked Sam when he came over to them.
"I think he's compelled to return a bow," Sam said. "Not sure why."
Tim coughed against Dean's shoulder and said, "Etiquette."
Dean and Sam gave him identical looks of disbelief, and he shrugged. "He never shut up about it. Etiquette this, etiquette that. I thought we'd never get to the fighting part. I finally just jumped him."
Sam turned his head and Dean saw him struggling not to laugh. After a minute, he turned back and said, "If a kappa loses the water on its head, it's weakened. Some even die. I didn't want to take any chances. I figure by the time he gets his head refilled, we'll be long gone."
Tim leaned more of his weight on Dean's hands, looking pale under the grime.
"Let's get out of here," Dean said, moving around so he could notch his shoulder in Tim's armpit to hold him up.
Sam carried the girl and Dean got Tim through the thicket, around the ponds and back to the ranger station. The girl's family wept when she told them she'd seen something scary and hid until somebody found her. They tried to make a fuss over Tim, but Tim had about had all he could take for one day, and begged Dean with his eyes to get him out of there.
"We're gonna go get him looked at," Dean said, and the family backed off, letting Tim through. When they got out to the parking lot, Dean called out to Sam, who was standing at the edge of the lot looking at a big wooden park map, and said, "Let's find a motel." To Tim, he said, "We'll get you cleaned up and I'll take you home tomorrow. I'll drive the truck. Sam can follow us."
Sam pointed to the map and said, "Looks like that promise to leave Texas forever may not mean as much as we thought."
Dean looked where Sam was pointing: Lake Texoma straddled the Texas-Oklahoma border. All the kappa had to do was paddle his way north and he was home free. He shook his head. Impressive, for a turtle; even a talking one. "Smart little sucker."
Sam and Tim both nodded.
"Come on, let's hit the road," Dean said.
"I can drive," Tim said, then promptly passed out, sagging against Dean, who staggered under his weight. Geez, the guy had to weigh two hundred pounds, all of it muscle. Plus however many pounds of pond muck he was carrying.
The motel plan sounded better and better.
***
Tim roused when they got to the motel and managed to get into the room under his own steam. While Sam went to find something for them to eat, Dean stripped Tim down to his skin and stuck him in the shower. Tim put his head under the spray and moaned, tilting toward the tile. "Whoa, hang on," Dean said, grabbing Tim's arm before his head hit the wall. He turned Tim's back against the tile and propped him up, then took off his own clothes and climbed in with him, putting Tim's back to his chest. He let Tim lean on him while he scrubbed away the slime and washed away the sweat and blood, detouring gently around any place that looked sore or raw.
That kappa sure had worked Tim over. Looking at the damage made Dean want to go dangle the goddamn thing by one leg until all his water spilled out again, or maybe just rip his fucking head off. The kappa had messed with one of his own and, as far as Dean was concerned, had gotten off too lightly.
Once Tim was clean, Dean put his chin on Tim's shoulder and stood there with him, remembering when Tim had done the same to him. It felt like another life, that stolen time in Dillon. He let the hot water pound out some of the tension in his shoulders, leftover from the anxious drive, the long, hot search. He rubbed his mouth on Tim's shoulder.
"Hey," he murmured.
Tim stirred against him, the broad planes of his back slick against Dean's chest, and rasped, "Hey." Then Tim reached down, took one of Dean's hands and dragged it between his legs, where, however exhausted the rest of him must have been, one part was wide awake and raring to go.
Dean thought about protesting, thought about telling Tim wrong time, wrong place, Sam would be back soon, Tim was too beat up…Dean thought about all that while his hand homed in on the familiar weight of Tim's cock and wrapped firmly around it, while his mouth moved to the pulse on Tim's neck and pressed in. He remembered the rhythm, understood what Tim meant by each stuttered groan. He knew Tim's body about as well as his own now. The miles and months between disappeared as Tim moved against him, thrusting up into Dean's hand, his whole body shaking, knees buckling for much better reason now, and through it all, Dean held onto him.
They were way too loud; Dean heard an echo when Tim turned around and blearily reached for him. If he could've held back he would have, but he didn't have it in him, not when Tim looked at him with hot eyes, want coming off him in waves. Not when Tim's mouth latched on to the meat of his shoulder and dug in, sending heat racing to his groin. Dean braced his arms on the walls of the shower, trusted his legs to hold them both up, and surrendered the rest to Tim's knowing hands.
Good thing Sam wasn't there; he'd probably have been scarred for life, possibly longer.
***
"How'd you know about that bowing thing?" Tim called out to Sam in the other room.
Sam had brought back burgers. Tim had taken one in each hand and scarfed them down as he sat docilely on the lid of the toilet wearing a pair of Dean's boxer shorts while Dean put hydrogen peroxide and antibiotic ointment on about twenty different scrapes, scratches, and gouges.
"I read about it online," Sam said, coming to stand in the bathroom doorway. "But Landry's the one who pointed us in the right direction."
Tim laughed under his breath. "We thought it was a giant catfish." He flinched when Dean poked at the bruise under his ribs.
"Sorry," Dean said, his fingers tracing more lightly.
"You weren't too far off," Sam said. "No reason to think something like that would find its way from Japan to Texas."
Tim leaned his forehead against Dean's stomach. "Thanks for coming, man."
Dean pushed his hands into Tim's hair, the wet strands twisting on his fingers. So many things he wanted to say. He settled for, "You're welcome."
"You had Landry worried," Sam said.
"Landry worries too much," Tim said, but after a minute, he rubbed his head against Dean and murmured, "I guess I should probably call him."
"Already done," Sam said. "He said he'd tell you to get a cell phone, but that you'd probably never use it."
Tim snorted. "It'd be at the bottom of a lake, anyway." He lifted his head and smiled up at Dean. "I do all right?"
Oh, yeah. Dean remembered eighteen. Half the time you felt invincible; the other half you were sure you'd die a virgin. At least Tim didn't have to worry about that. The rest of it, though…
"It could've gone wrong sixteen different ways," Dean said, taking hold of Tim's shoulders and shaking him gently. "Hunting alone's about the dumbest thing you can do. It's a great way to get yourself killed."
Tim muttered something Dean couldn't hear, so he dropped to a crouch between Tim's spread thighs. "What?"
"I didn't really have a choice," Tim said. He sounded matter-of-fact about it, not accusatory, but it still hit Dean like a two-by-four. Shit. While Tim was wrestling a Japanese water god, Dean had been dreaming in a motel bed, oblivious. He stood abruptly. He hadn't known what Tim was doing; had no idea. But maybe he should have.
"You do have a choice," Sam said from the doorway. "You don't have to do this."
"I want to," Tim said, his voice rough. He started to say something else, but stopped and shook his head.
"You got lucky this time," Dean said, feeling bad about ganging up on him, but it didn't seem like the message was getting through. "How much longer you think you could have held that thing down? Eventually, you'd have let go. He'd have made you think you'd won, and he'd have taken you and the girl."
Tim just blinked at him. Dean sighed and reached over, tangling his hand in Tim's hair again. Now that he had Tim back within reach, he couldn’t seem to stop touching him.
"Look at it this way," Sam said, stepping into the bathroom. "Right now, you're a freshman. You've barely made JV, but you're putting yourself in the varsity game, against guys a lot bigger and meaner than you. Only in this game, we're talking life and death, not wins and losses."
"You've obviously never been to Dillon during playoffs," Tim said with a shadow of a smile.
Sam let out an exasperated sigh. "On the supernatural spectrum, that thing we saw today was practically a kitten. There's lots worse out there. Dean's right. You got lucky."
Dean slid the flat of his hand against Tim's neck, one of the few places he didn't have a scratch, scrape, or bruise, and felt Tim's pulse beat strong against his palm. Time for a more direct approach. "You don't know enough," he said. "That little girl could have died because of what you didn't know."
Tim looked up at him, his eyes clear and bright. "So coach me."
"Tim--"
"I'm serious," Tim said, standing. He wobbled a little, then steadied himself with a hand on Dean's hip. "I'll have my diploma after summer school, and then I'm done. I don't have the grades for college. I'm not gonna play ball…" His voice trailed off and he looked down. "It's this or…really, there isn't any 'or'. There's just this. I want to do this." He took another breath and looked at Dean. "I think I'm good at it."
The hell of it was, he was right. And after the mess at the Roadhouse, they didn't have the luxury of turning away qualified applicants. At least this way, Dean could be sure Tim was armed to the teeth and knew what the fuck he was doing next time Landry sent him on a wild catfish chase. Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam. Sam looked down for a minute, then met Dean's eyes and nodded. Okay. Fine. Dean didn't know where, or how, but it looked like they were gonna run hunter training camp for Tim. Oh, God, and probably Landry. Having a brainy sidekick was good, but having a brainy sidekick who could cock a salt-filled shotgun one-handed? Even better.
"It's not gonna be blowjobs and Pop-tarts, Tim," Dean said sternly. "It'll make football practice look like a day at the spa."
Tim lifted a corner of his mouth. "I don’t care about Pop-tarts," he said, with a significant look in the direction of Dean's crotch.
Dean's dick twitched, which Tim couldn't possibly have missed, but Dean ignored it manfully. "I'm serious."
Tim shrugged. "If I don't puke, you haven't worked me hard enough."
"Okay, now that's scary," Sam said.
Tim looked from Sam to Dean and smiled. "When do we start?"
***
The end.
One rendition of a kappa:
One More Note: That's all I've got in the hopper, but as you can see, there's LOTS more room to play. The door remains wide open for anyone who wants to walk through it at fnlspnsnapshots.
It's THURSDAY! omgomgomgomgomg
I can't even call this one a snapshot. It's more like a whole flippin' album. I have no idea where it came from, except brynwulf deserves a lot of the blame.
Title: Riggins & Winchester: Junior Varsity
Pairing: Tim Riggins/Dean Winchester
Rating: R -- Adult readers only, please. In this 'verse, Tim Riggins is 18.
Notes: FNL and SPN remain under the copyright of their respective owners. Written for pleasure, not profit. Thanks go to brynwulf for being the best sounding board ever, and to devilc and moosesal for beta reading.
Word Count: 5,100
Summary: Set several months after the end of the original set of snapshots, specifically after Snapshot #11 REDUX: Another Way To Go.
Junior Varsity
***
A ringing phone at midnight never brought good news. Dean peeled his hand off the knife under his pillow and patted the nightstand for his phone. "'Lo," he said, rubbing sleep out of his eye.
"Dean?"
The voice sounded young, scared, and familiar, but he couldn't place it. "Yeah," he said.
"It's Landry. Landry Clarke, from Dillon? Tim's…um…friend?" the voice said.
Landry. Landry? Oh, shit, Landry.
Oh, shit.
Tim.
Dean yanked back the covers and climbed out of bed, automatically reaching under it for his duffel. As he turned on the light, he said, "Landry, yeah, I remember you. What's going on?"
Either the light or the phone or Dean's panicked flight out of bed woke Sam, who sat up in the other bed, blinking against the light, and mouthed, "What?" at him. Dean shook his head. In his ear, the sound of Landry's short sharp breaths made his blood run cold. He sat back down abruptly on the bed. "Okay, Landry, you need to calm down." He motioned Sam over and turned the phone so Sam could hear, too. "Is Tim okay?"
"I don't know," Landry said, his voice thick and a little wobbly. "He went after something. He's been doing that for awhile, you know? Like y'all do?"
Tim was hunting? Fuck. Fuck. Dean's heart skipped a beat, then started again, double-time. Beside him, Sam drew in a sharp breath and reached over, trying to pull the phone from Dean's hand. Dean batted him away and turned, sheltering the phone.
"We didn't know," Dean said.
"What?" Landry said, loudly enough that Sam leaned forward again.
"I haven't talked to him," Dean said, ignoring the look Sam gave him. "Start at the beginning."
"He's been doing it all summer," Landry said, his voice getting steadier the more he talked. "It's amazing, once you know what to look for, how much is out there. I'll read the newspapers and find stuff that sounds off somehow, and then Tim goes after whatever it is. Like, I set 'em up and he knocks 'em down, kind of like …well, I don't really know what it's like, since I've never done it before, but it worked the first time, so we just kept doing it, and--"
"Landry, dude," Dean said. "Cut to the chase."
"Okay, yeah, sorry. He left yesterday afternoon, said he was going to Lake Texoma to look for a giant catfish. He said he'd be back no later than noon, but I haven't seen him or heard from him, and I waited a while because, well, it's Tim, and sometimes he gets distracted, if there's a pool table, or a girl -- sorry, Dean -- or a television." He paused and Dean heard his breath start up with those short sharp pants again. "I think maybe he bit off more than he can chew."
"…of the catfish," Sam said sarcastically.
Dean ground his knuckle into the side of Sam's knee and said, "The catfish thing is a red herring."
"What?" Landry spluttered.
Sam took the phone. "What he means is, they disproved the giant catfish thing a couple years ago. It's a prank. It's not real."
"All I know is, stuff keeps going missing at that lake," Landry said. "Like, it started with a bunch of geese, and then it was dogs, and now this week, a Girl Scout on a camping trip went for a swim and *poof* she's gone, and they all say she drowned, but I don't know. I don't think that's what happened."
"You think it's a giant catfish," Sam said.
"Or something," Landry said. He paused, then said, "Whatever it is, I'm worried maybe it ate Tim."
Dean's heart settled into a rhythm he recognized as pre-hunt jitters. Better than the somebody-died thump, but still not as good as being sound asleep and dreaming about Jessica Biel. He took the phone back from Sam and got up.
"Okay, here's what we're gonna do," he said, pacing the length of the room. "You e-mail Sam everything you've got on the catfish and what's been happening at the lake. The address is notinkansas@mymail.com. We'll check it out and call you back."
"What else can I do?" Landry said. Damn, he sounded young.
"Just sit tight, Landry," Dean said. "You did the right thing calling us."
"Tim gave me your cell number," Landry said. "He told me to call you if something went wrong. He said he knew you'd come and kill whatever it was."
Dean closed his eyes. Damn it, Tim.
"It probably won't come to that," Dean said. "But if it does, we'll take care of it."
Landry sighed. "If it turns out he's drunk at some bar somewhere, he won't have to worry about a Scout-eating fish -- I'll kill him myself."
***
Dean didn't get visions like Sam, but he trusted his instincts, so when the first thing he seemed to want to do after hanging up the phone was start packing, he rolled with it. Sam stood looking at him for a minute, then silently pulled out his own duffel. Dean let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding and offered to go get coffee while Sam booted up the laptop.
By the time he got back, Sam was scribbling furiously on the motel notepad. He took the coffee cup Dean offered and pointed to the computer screen.
"Believe it or not, I think they were onto something," Sam said. "Not a giant catfish, but something's definitely up to no good at that lake."
"What do you think it is?" Dean asked, pulling up a chair and looking over Sam's shoulder.
Sam leaned forward and pointed to one of the open webpages. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it sounded like a kappa, a Japanese river child."
"But…"
Sam looked at him over his shoulder. "Texas is a long way from Japan, and they usually inhabit rivers or streams. But otherwise, it fits." He ticked off his fingers, saying, "It starts small; it doesn't seem malicious, necessarily, but then it takes a child."
"Does it eat them?" Dean asked, blowing on his coffee before taking a sip.
"Sometimes," Sam said. "But sometimes, it just plays with them. And it can live out of water. It keeps water in its head, like a bowl." He pointed to an illustration of truly weird-ass looking thing -- part human, part animal -- with a big dip full of water in its head.
"That's one ugly son of a bitch."
"Yeah."
"And that's what you think Tim and Landry found? Some Japanese river gremlin? In a lake in Texas?"
Sam shrugged. "Well…yeah. I do."
Dean felt a little warm glow kindle in his belly. "I'll be damned."
***
Around the two hundred mile mark, Dean looked across the front seat at Sam and said, "What the hell was he thinking?"
Sam had a flashlight in his lap, using it to read up on kappa lore. He switched off the light and shrugged, saying, "Maybe once he knew, he wanted to do something about it."
*
A hundred miles further, Dean said, "He's just a kid."
Sam just looked at him. "Is that what you thought when he was suck--"
"Sam!"
*
As they crossed the state line, Dean grunted. "I'd have thought Landry had more sense."
"You really think Landry could've stopped Tim from doing something he wanted to do?" Sam asked.
Dean flashbacked to the dusty grocery store back room -- not back far enough, either. Over his own stifled moans and Tim's rough breath, he could hear customers on the other side of the wall going about their day, buying their hamburger and toilet paper and milk while Tim pushed his warm, callused hand down the front of Dean's jeans and brought him off right there against the lunch meats, and Dean just put his head back, closed his eyes, and let him.
He sighed and surreptitiously rearranged his suddenly hard dick. "No, probably not."
***
It took them twelve hours to get there, with Dean twitching every time they stopped until they could get back on the road. Sam let him drive a whole seven miles over the speed limit, three more than he usually did in their post-Hendricksen world.
Nobody knew anything, of course. The ranger pointed out the search-and-rescue teams in the woods surrounding the lake, saying they'd dragged the lake where the child disappeared already and not found anything, so they'd moved on to the woods. But Sam told Dean he still thought water was their best bet; they went down toward the lake and started checking the dozens of brackish ponds set way back from the roads, some so covered in algae they looked solid. The sun hung hot in the sky, the dense, bright light making Dean feel like his head was baking. He found himself hoping the little girl had died quickly; heat like this would be an ugly way to go.
Every once in a while, he'd shout, "TIM!" and get only the buzz of insects in answer.
They'd been looking for a couple of hours, and Dean had started to wonder just how long it could take to cover the shores of a nine-thousand acre lake, when in response to his hoarse shout, Dean finally heard something: a grunt, then a curse, then another grunt.
Dean grabbed Sam's arm and said, "This way."
They fought through underbrush and waded through knee-deep water, following the sounds. Dean hacked through a wall of something tough and sticky, and burrowed through, holding it open for Sam to crawl through behind him.
Holy shit.
In a small clearing, Tim lay stretched in a shallow pool of murky water. He was filthy -- covered from head to toe in sweat, mud, and God knew what else -- soaking wet, bloody in a dozen places, but thoroughly, thankfully alive. Alive and kicking, it looked like; he was sprawled on top of some…thing. It looked part human and part, well, not-human. Like a turtle or a lizard or something reptilian and ugly. The top of its head had a hollow in it, and Dean remembered Sam saying that's where kappa kept water so they could go on land. The muscles in Tim's arms, shoulders, and neck stood out in sharp relief -- he was holding on with every ounce of strength he had. Beneath him the thing struggled, pushing up on Tim, but it didn't seem to be gaining much ground.
Sam started to say something, but Dean put out his hand and said softly, "Don't distract him."
Just then Tim looked up, his eyes wild. He locked on Dean and grinned like a crazy man, his teeth bright white in his dirty face. "Dean!"
Dean strode forward, pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. "Hold still, Tim, I've got to get a clear shot."
Tim's grin disappeared. "No, wait, don't kill it," he said urgently, and beneath him, the kappa redoubled its efforts. Tim twisted and got his legs turned so he could clamp his thighs around the thing's back. It jerked and Tim grunted again; the kappa must have gotten a shot in somewhere.
Dean stopped in his tracks, his gun still raised.
Sam stepped up beside him, his hands out, and said to Tim, "Tell us what to do."
Tim looked up and shook the hair out of his eyes. "I heard the little girl a little while ago; she's out here somewhere, but he won't tell me where she is."
The kid was still alive. Amazing. Dean lowered his gun.
"It talked to you?" Sam asked. He glanced over at Dean like he was wondering if Tim had been out in the sun too long.
"I am not 'it'." The heavily accented croak came from under Tim's left shoulder. "I am 'he'."
"Whatever," Tim said to it. Uh, him. "You're down, and you're staying down."
"Is she hurt?" Sam asked.
Tim looked down. "I don't think so. He wasn't going to eat her. He wanted company."
Sam looked at Dean, then said to Tim, "So…what're you doing?"
"He challenged me, said if I wrestle him and win, he'll let the girl go and he'll get the hell out of Texas," Tim said, panting, settling his weight more firmly on the kappa.
"And if he wins?" Sam said.
"He still lets her go," Tim said, then looked over at Dean. "And takes me instead."
Yeah, okay, no. Not happening. Tim was looking at him like he wanted Dean to tell him he'd done good, and he had, but no way on God's green earth was Dean letting some goddamn turtle take Tim. He'd kill the thing where he lay and they'd find the girl themselves. He didn't say anything, but Sam obviously figured out where his head was, because he reached over and clicked the safety on Dean's gun.
Dean stepped closer. Fine. If he couldn't use his gun, he'd keep tearing the thing to pieces with his bare hands as an option. Tim looked like he was starting to wear out -- his arms were trembling, and he was pulling in breaths in long hard gusts.
"Tim, how long have you been at it?" Dean asked quietly.
"Um, what day is it?" Tim asked, his voice going low and rough when the kappa shifted again.
Wow, that long…Dean moved in close enough to see that the kappa had one of his legs wound tight around Tim's right ankle, and the spines on his back were digging into Tim's side under his ribs. Had to hurt like hell, but Tim had somehow maintained the upper hand. Time enough later to get smug about it, but damnit, he'd been right: Tim had everything he needed to be a hunter -- and a good one -- except experience, and here he was, getting on-the-job training.
"Thursday," Dean said, walking in a circle around Tim and his prey, looking for an opening.
"I got here Tuesday night, found him yesterday," Tim said, indicating the kappa, "and it was way past dark when we started. He had all these rituals and stuff, rules about it," Tim said. "So…that's how long."
Shit. At least twelve hours, maybe more. The whole time they'd been driving, Tim had been here fighting this thing. Alone. Goddamnit. Okay, time to wrap this up before Tim gave out completely or the thing gored him with his spiny back.
"Come on, come on," Tim muttered, arching his back and shoving the kappa deeper into the mud. "Yield, you little fucker. No way you're getting up now. I've got backup."
Beside him, Sam grinned, and despite the heat and the bugs and the mud and the blistering sun and the missing girl and the talking lake monster, Dean found himself grinning too.
"I will yield." the kappa said, his tongue reaching out far enough to stroke along Tim's forearm. It left a green streak in its wake. "If that is what you want."
"Finally," Tim said, and started to let go, but Sam lunged forward and yelled, "No!"
Tim froze, his grip tightening again. His face contorted in a grimace. "Shit. Be quick," he said through clenched teeth.
"These things are tricky," Sam said. "You have to get it to promise. Once they make an oath, they can't break it. What were its exact words?"
Tim groaned. "I don't remember. Feels like a long time ago, you know?"
Okay, enough dicking around.
Dean crouched down in front of the kappa. "I'll make it real simple: You promise to let the girl -- and this one -- go, unharmed, and leave Texas forever. Say whatever you have to say to make it stick, and then there's some chance I won't rip your heart out while Tim here holds you down."
The kappa grumbled for a minute, but finally said, "I promise to release the child and this one, unharmed, and leave Texas."
Dean looked up at Sam. "Good enough?"
Sam seemed to be thinking through loopholes. "I think so."
Tim squinted up at him. "You think so?"
"We've never come up against one of these before," Sam said. "They're not supposed to be on this side of the Pacific."
"Look, let's get into the history later, okay?" Dean pointed at the kappa. "Where'd you put the Girl Scout?"
"You will find the girl in a culvert fifty meters to the west," the kappa croaked.
Sam headed off at a sprint and came back a few minutes later with the girl clutched to his chest. "She's okay. She says she's hungry," he said.
Only then did Tim relax his grip. Dean reached over to brace Tim as he untangled himself from the kappa, and did his best to get a firm grip on Tim's slippery skin. Tim took hold of Dean's arm and lifted himself up, grabbing tighter when his legs buckled beneath him.
"Shit," Tim said.
"I've got you," Dean said. To hell with the muck; he slid his arms around Tim's back and held on tight.
Tim dropped his forehead on Dean's shoulder and groaned.
"You hurt?" Dean asked, rubbing his hands up and down Tim's back.
"I've had worse from practice," Tim said, but it took him three tries to get his arms high enough to go around Dean.
Stoic fucker. Dean put Tim at arms' length and looked him over, lifting his mud-crusted shirt to look at the vivid dark red bruise spreading across the bottom of Tim's ribs. "That's gonna hurt for awhile," Dean said.
Tim nodded.
"Um, guys? He's leaving," Sam said, calling their attention to the kappa.
He had a weird dignity to him, the kappa did. He'd kept his promise, and he hadn't hurt the little girl he stole. That put him ahead of a lot of the shit they dealt with.
Sam moved in front of the kappa and bowed deeply, still holding the girl tightly to his chest.
The kappa stilled. "You are a smart one," he said before slowly bowing back. From the indention in his head, water spilled and ran down his scaly face, disappearing into the mud.
Sam bowed again. "You are a worthy adversary," he said formally.
The kappa turned toward Dean and Tim. "That one is smart, and the young one is strong," the kappa said, indicating Tim. He looked at Dean. "What are you?"
Dean tightened his grip on Tim and said, "I'm the one who still has the gun. Get moving."
The kappa turned away, shuffling from pond to pond until he disappeared from view.
"What was all that about?" Dean asked Sam when he came over to them.
"I think he's compelled to return a bow," Sam said. "Not sure why."
Tim coughed against Dean's shoulder and said, "Etiquette."
Dean and Sam gave him identical looks of disbelief, and he shrugged. "He never shut up about it. Etiquette this, etiquette that. I thought we'd never get to the fighting part. I finally just jumped him."
Sam turned his head and Dean saw him struggling not to laugh. After a minute, he turned back and said, "If a kappa loses the water on its head, it's weakened. Some even die. I didn't want to take any chances. I figure by the time he gets his head refilled, we'll be long gone."
Tim leaned more of his weight on Dean's hands, looking pale under the grime.
"Let's get out of here," Dean said, moving around so he could notch his shoulder in Tim's armpit to hold him up.
Sam carried the girl and Dean got Tim through the thicket, around the ponds and back to the ranger station. The girl's family wept when she told them she'd seen something scary and hid until somebody found her. They tried to make a fuss over Tim, but Tim had about had all he could take for one day, and begged Dean with his eyes to get him out of there.
"We're gonna go get him looked at," Dean said, and the family backed off, letting Tim through. When they got out to the parking lot, Dean called out to Sam, who was standing at the edge of the lot looking at a big wooden park map, and said, "Let's find a motel." To Tim, he said, "We'll get you cleaned up and I'll take you home tomorrow. I'll drive the truck. Sam can follow us."
Sam pointed to the map and said, "Looks like that promise to leave Texas forever may not mean as much as we thought."
Dean looked where Sam was pointing: Lake Texoma straddled the Texas-Oklahoma border. All the kappa had to do was paddle his way north and he was home free. He shook his head. Impressive, for a turtle; even a talking one. "Smart little sucker."
Sam and Tim both nodded.
"Come on, let's hit the road," Dean said.
"I can drive," Tim said, then promptly passed out, sagging against Dean, who staggered under his weight. Geez, the guy had to weigh two hundred pounds, all of it muscle. Plus however many pounds of pond muck he was carrying.
The motel plan sounded better and better.
***
Tim roused when they got to the motel and managed to get into the room under his own steam. While Sam went to find something for them to eat, Dean stripped Tim down to his skin and stuck him in the shower. Tim put his head under the spray and moaned, tilting toward the tile. "Whoa, hang on," Dean said, grabbing Tim's arm before his head hit the wall. He turned Tim's back against the tile and propped him up, then took off his own clothes and climbed in with him, putting Tim's back to his chest. He let Tim lean on him while he scrubbed away the slime and washed away the sweat and blood, detouring gently around any place that looked sore or raw.
That kappa sure had worked Tim over. Looking at the damage made Dean want to go dangle the goddamn thing by one leg until all his water spilled out again, or maybe just rip his fucking head off. The kappa had messed with one of his own and, as far as Dean was concerned, had gotten off too lightly.
Once Tim was clean, Dean put his chin on Tim's shoulder and stood there with him, remembering when Tim had done the same to him. It felt like another life, that stolen time in Dillon. He let the hot water pound out some of the tension in his shoulders, leftover from the anxious drive, the long, hot search. He rubbed his mouth on Tim's shoulder.
"Hey," he murmured.
Tim stirred against him, the broad planes of his back slick against Dean's chest, and rasped, "Hey." Then Tim reached down, took one of Dean's hands and dragged it between his legs, where, however exhausted the rest of him must have been, one part was wide awake and raring to go.
Dean thought about protesting, thought about telling Tim wrong time, wrong place, Sam would be back soon, Tim was too beat up…Dean thought about all that while his hand homed in on the familiar weight of Tim's cock and wrapped firmly around it, while his mouth moved to the pulse on Tim's neck and pressed in. He remembered the rhythm, understood what Tim meant by each stuttered groan. He knew Tim's body about as well as his own now. The miles and months between disappeared as Tim moved against him, thrusting up into Dean's hand, his whole body shaking, knees buckling for much better reason now, and through it all, Dean held onto him.
They were way too loud; Dean heard an echo when Tim turned around and blearily reached for him. If he could've held back he would have, but he didn't have it in him, not when Tim looked at him with hot eyes, want coming off him in waves. Not when Tim's mouth latched on to the meat of his shoulder and dug in, sending heat racing to his groin. Dean braced his arms on the walls of the shower, trusted his legs to hold them both up, and surrendered the rest to Tim's knowing hands.
Good thing Sam wasn't there; he'd probably have been scarred for life, possibly longer.
***
"How'd you know about that bowing thing?" Tim called out to Sam in the other room.
Sam had brought back burgers. Tim had taken one in each hand and scarfed them down as he sat docilely on the lid of the toilet wearing a pair of Dean's boxer shorts while Dean put hydrogen peroxide and antibiotic ointment on about twenty different scrapes, scratches, and gouges.
"I read about it online," Sam said, coming to stand in the bathroom doorway. "But Landry's the one who pointed us in the right direction."
Tim laughed under his breath. "We thought it was a giant catfish." He flinched when Dean poked at the bruise under his ribs.
"Sorry," Dean said, his fingers tracing more lightly.
"You weren't too far off," Sam said. "No reason to think something like that would find its way from Japan to Texas."
Tim leaned his forehead against Dean's stomach. "Thanks for coming, man."
Dean pushed his hands into Tim's hair, the wet strands twisting on his fingers. So many things he wanted to say. He settled for, "You're welcome."
"You had Landry worried," Sam said.
"Landry worries too much," Tim said, but after a minute, he rubbed his head against Dean and murmured, "I guess I should probably call him."
"Already done," Sam said. "He said he'd tell you to get a cell phone, but that you'd probably never use it."
Tim snorted. "It'd be at the bottom of a lake, anyway." He lifted his head and smiled up at Dean. "I do all right?"
Oh, yeah. Dean remembered eighteen. Half the time you felt invincible; the other half you were sure you'd die a virgin. At least Tim didn't have to worry about that. The rest of it, though…
"It could've gone wrong sixteen different ways," Dean said, taking hold of Tim's shoulders and shaking him gently. "Hunting alone's about the dumbest thing you can do. It's a great way to get yourself killed."
Tim muttered something Dean couldn't hear, so he dropped to a crouch between Tim's spread thighs. "What?"
"I didn't really have a choice," Tim said. He sounded matter-of-fact about it, not accusatory, but it still hit Dean like a two-by-four. Shit. While Tim was wrestling a Japanese water god, Dean had been dreaming in a motel bed, oblivious. He stood abruptly. He hadn't known what Tim was doing; had no idea. But maybe he should have.
"You do have a choice," Sam said from the doorway. "You don't have to do this."
"I want to," Tim said, his voice rough. He started to say something else, but stopped and shook his head.
"You got lucky this time," Dean said, feeling bad about ganging up on him, but it didn't seem like the message was getting through. "How much longer you think you could have held that thing down? Eventually, you'd have let go. He'd have made you think you'd won, and he'd have taken you and the girl."
Tim just blinked at him. Dean sighed and reached over, tangling his hand in Tim's hair again. Now that he had Tim back within reach, he couldn’t seem to stop touching him.
"Look at it this way," Sam said, stepping into the bathroom. "Right now, you're a freshman. You've barely made JV, but you're putting yourself in the varsity game, against guys a lot bigger and meaner than you. Only in this game, we're talking life and death, not wins and losses."
"You've obviously never been to Dillon during playoffs," Tim said with a shadow of a smile.
Sam let out an exasperated sigh. "On the supernatural spectrum, that thing we saw today was practically a kitten. There's lots worse out there. Dean's right. You got lucky."
Dean slid the flat of his hand against Tim's neck, one of the few places he didn't have a scratch, scrape, or bruise, and felt Tim's pulse beat strong against his palm. Time for a more direct approach. "You don't know enough," he said. "That little girl could have died because of what you didn't know."
Tim looked up at him, his eyes clear and bright. "So coach me."
"Tim--"
"I'm serious," Tim said, standing. He wobbled a little, then steadied himself with a hand on Dean's hip. "I'll have my diploma after summer school, and then I'm done. I don't have the grades for college. I'm not gonna play ball…" His voice trailed off and he looked down. "It's this or…really, there isn't any 'or'. There's just this. I want to do this." He took another breath and looked at Dean. "I think I'm good at it."
The hell of it was, he was right. And after the mess at the Roadhouse, they didn't have the luxury of turning away qualified applicants. At least this way, Dean could be sure Tim was armed to the teeth and knew what the fuck he was doing next time Landry sent him on a wild catfish chase. Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam. Sam looked down for a minute, then met Dean's eyes and nodded. Okay. Fine. Dean didn't know where, or how, but it looked like they were gonna run hunter training camp for Tim. Oh, God, and probably Landry. Having a brainy sidekick was good, but having a brainy sidekick who could cock a salt-filled shotgun one-handed? Even better.
"It's not gonna be blowjobs and Pop-tarts, Tim," Dean said sternly. "It'll make football practice look like a day at the spa."
Tim lifted a corner of his mouth. "I don’t care about Pop-tarts," he said, with a significant look in the direction of Dean's crotch.
Dean's dick twitched, which Tim couldn't possibly have missed, but Dean ignored it manfully. "I'm serious."
Tim shrugged. "If I don't puke, you haven't worked me hard enough."
"Okay, now that's scary," Sam said.
Tim looked from Sam to Dean and smiled. "When do we start?"
***
The end.
One rendition of a kappa:
One More Note: That's all I've got in the hopper, but as you can see, there's LOTS more room to play. The door remains wide open for anyone who wants to walk through it at fnlspnsnapshots.